Whisper
by Ronnie
Summary: Drunken hallucinations, driving me mad... (Slash references)


The bottle seems so far away. I stare at it blankly, trying to decide whether the offer of oblivion it holds inside of it - in the form of an amber colored liquid - is worth moving and reminding myself of the never- subsiding pain that resides within me. So far away, yet so close, within reach. I try to focus my gaze but everything dances before my eyes, the room refusing to rest, continuing its maddening dance around me. Big circles, tiny circles, closing in and then drifting away. With a heavy sigh I push my wary body up slightly and reach for the bottle, its glass cold against my heated skin. I caress its neck softly, as if touching a lover's body, fingers taking me back, playing across memories as if they were the keys of a piano. I slowly raise the bottle to my lips, waiting. Cool liquid burns its way down my throat as I take a sip - more of a gulp - and the dance's pace quickens. The fiery sensation at the pit of my stomach takes my mind off the pain for a mere moment before I am reminded of it again, tears stinging against my eyelashes. Even through the alcohol-endured fog that is clouding my mind I can see a clear image of him, standing before me, so life-like, so vivid. His eyes sparkle at me; his grin is like a ray of light in the dark. A sob tears through my body, cutting through me like tiny knives. It carves agony's scars onto my skin.  
  
I don't move, I don't breath. Fear closes its iron fist around my heart, fear of losing him once again. Don't let the image fade, I pray without a sound, biting my lip against the sob that threatens to escape. Any sound will disturb him and make him disappear. Any sound will frighten him and make him leave me alone. Again.  
  
He smiles ever so softly, one hand held forward, fingers reaching. His eyes hold a sad glint within their green depths and I can see the ghost of a tear glistening at the corner of his right eye. Oh, how I long to be able to wipe it away. How I want to hold him in my arms. The bottle makes its way to my lips again but even alcohol's fire could not take my mind off him.  
  
"Harry." I whisper, closing my eyes. The bottle falls to the floor with a thud, rolling away on the wooden floor. I pay it no heed, my eyelids fluttering to an open, gaze focused on him. I stand slowly, as if someone had pressed the slow-motion button, my eyes never leaving his. His smiles seems to beckon me to him, seems to call out to me. He nods his head as I stand and stare. Tears stream freely down my cheeks, falling to the floor silently. So close.  
  
Even with the room dancing a wild tango all around, his image is clear to me. Clear and shining and oh so wonderful. So wonderful it hurts. "Harry." there are so many things I want to say, Harry. Why can't I say them? "Harry." so many words, Harry. They're all confused in my mind. "Harry." why did you leave me?  
  
I take one step forward. Stumbling, I try to make sense of everything. Is he back? Another step and suddenly the floor rushes towards me as I fall. The air is knocked out of me as I lay there, staring at the wooden floor. A river of tears flows from my eyes onto the floor, seemingly pooling there in a bottomless lake. I feel drained, not even daring to hope as I raise my head slowly, eyes widened. Even though I knew what to expect, pain blossoms in my heart as I see nothing. He is not standing over me, smiling sadly at my clumsiness or offering to help me up. He's gone.  
  
Suddenly, light floods the room as the door is opened, a faint scent of strawberries descending onto me. Heels click on the floor as a feminine figure comes closer. I don't need to raise my head to know who it is. Her tell-tale scent, the one that is unique and very much her own, has informed me of her entry. I remain on the floor, curling into a ball, shaking as sobs tear through me again and again.  
  
"Draco. for the love of God, get up." her voice is cold and sharp, urgency shining through the frost. I don't move. I don't dare to move. The pain is too much. "Draco, the children will be here any moment. You haven't seen them since Christmas. Get up."  
  
"Leave me alone, Pansy." The words refuse to leave my mouth coherently, sounding more like a string of unidentified syllables. My wife sighs and rolls her eyes as she bends down and drags me to the chair, leaning my back against the cool wood. I hear her curse darkly as she inspects a broken nail, muttering about her rotten luck. I push her out, like I always do, and let myself drift away from the room and the mansion, away from my family and my obligation.  
  
To him. 


End file.
